


switch it up (in mismatched socks)

by Blownwish



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Roy, Lapdance, M/M, PWP, edroy - Freeform, misuse of automail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 23:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11450901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Ed thinks he's the only one who wants it like that. He is so, so wrong.





	switch it up (in mismatched socks)

**Author's Note:**

> For certain people I know ;)

He always tried to ignore this feeling, because it was so damn selfish. But when he woke up a sticky mess, night after night, he knew it was time to find him, again. To let him touch Edward again, to make these distracting feelings go away.

He's so easy to find. He's always in his office, in a bar, or alone in his filthy townhouse. And he always knows when Edward needs him like this. Edward doesn't have to say a word; all he has to do is drop his jacket on the floor and Mustang takes care of the rest.

It's always the same. Mustang bites one glove off and works his ass over, smacking, then finger fucking his ass until Ed is begging for more, and Mustang gives it to him, balls deep, hard and fast until Edward is a fucked out mess beneath him. Then Edward drags his pants back up, grabs his jacket, and without a word he closes the door behind him, leaving those feelings behind it.

Except tonight is different.

Mustang is straddling him on his filthy sofa, near-naked in his white boxers as he's grinding against Edward's dick. His ass keeps moving in this hypnotic, undulating motion so his balls drag across Edward’s crotch and he's grabbing Edward’s hands and he's putting them on his ass, squeezing his hands so Ed can squeeze, too, and - god! - his ass is so squeezable, Edward’s dick is hard and Mustang’s dick is - oh, fuck!

Edward leans forward because he wants to lick all the scars that criss cross his chest like a roadmap telling him where to go. But Mustang pushes him back and throws his head back and moves his ass back and forth as he closes his eyes and smiles at the ceiling and he's grinding on him, softly humming some crazy song as he drives Edward nuts.

_“What the actual fuck, asshole?”_

Roy presses his forehead against his and smiles. “Like it?” Licks his finger and rubs his own nipple. Edward can imagine his mouth right there, but Mustang pushes him back, again. “Like me, Fullmetal?”

Like him? No, he doesn't like him. He needed what he did to him, but no. Like doesn't come close to describing the raging rush of adrenaline and endorphins coursing through his bloodstream. He wants to be torn apart and reconstructed into something that feels whole again, even if it only lasts a little while.

And this doesn't make sense. He's not being bent over. He's not being fingered or smacked. He's being teased. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Guess.” Mustang grabs his automail hand. He sucks one metal finger into his mouth. He pulls it between is legs, and Edward is pressing his wet finger through his cotton boxers, against Mustang’s ass.

“I don't even get it.”

Mustang rolls his eyes. “You sure you're a genius, kid?” Edward would let him know just how much of a genius he is, except Mustang is standing up, turning around, stripping off his shorts (he's still wearing one black and one white sock) and tosses them at Edward. Uh…

His ass is fucking _outstanding_. The kind of ass that begs to be _bitten_. And, holy shit, Mustang looks over his shoulder as he smacks it.

“Still not sure you like me?”

Edward’s lips barely move. “Pretty sure it's not like.”

Now that ass is in full display, because Mustang is bent over, grinding on him, again, and he's putting Esward’s automail hand there - right there - and he's - he's -

“Get the mineral oil, Fullmetal.”

Up is down and black is white because in mere moments Edward is finger banging Mustang, who's moaning like a bitch in heat, gasping and whining and liking over his shoulder and panting for him. “Harder.”

Edward can do harder.

“Faster.”

Edward can do faster.

“More.”

Edward pulls his pants down so fast he's positive he's ripped a seam. His hands shake as he dribbles the damn oil all over his dick and god damn fucking hell Mustang’s ass looks so good when he gets that shit all over it and he has to slap it once or twice and - fuck! - Mustang sounds so good when he groans after that.

“Fuck me, Fullmetal.” _Oh, fuck._

Never in his wildest, darkest dreams did Edward ever imagine this. Never did he ever feel the amazing, tight velvet vice grip around his dick. And the groans! Mustang is groaning like a whore, arching his back and - god! - Edward can't _not_ thrust and he can't stop and he won't stop.

“Hard!”

“That's right!” Edward slams into him, hard. Fast. Without mercy. And Mustang wails, moans and claws at the ratty old carpet. “That's right, Colonel. Your nothing but a bitch. Right?”

Mustang nods, then sobs as Edward grabs his hair. As Edward pulls him up. He's crying and he's shaking and oh fuck! The bastard needs this. Edward can see it because he knows what it means when he cries like this while this bastard fucks him. He knows- he needs it, just like Edward.

Edward bites his shoulder as he reaches around him. Roy Mustang comes apart and Edward puts him back together with every pump, and he is fucking beautiful.


End file.
